Ankyra Sound one gonna help me talk right, one gonna lay me down to sleep

kierkegaard was evidently not as thrilled as ingram about the subject of chusi - slowly, ingram's enthusiasm deflated and he felt a rush of hot chagrin scald his face and stomach. he avoided kierkegaard's gaze as he spoke, noting painfully the dull apathy the grizzled man sported.

perhaps when ingram was kierkegaard's age, he might deploy such detachment; as of now he had not seen enough of the world to know better, and simply thought the male's listlessness was a result of him simply not caring for the subject, not a result of time's (and life's, and disappointment's) relentless deluge.

"i'll be two in may." he answered slowly, his expression somewhat doubtful as he considered how to politely excuse himself from kierkegaard's company. he didn't think the male would miss him, so he cleared his throat and began to make his leave. "i... i gotta go. figure it out, like you said." sheepish smile inserted. "um. good luck?" he cast one last puzzled glance at kierkegaard and then, if no objection was made, would skedaddle.